


Something To Lean Against

by cenotaphy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Sam Winchester, Castiel Heals Sam Winchester, Castiel is Loved (Supernatural), Coda, Dean Being a Dick Off-Screen, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, Sam Feeling Unclean, Sam Is Trying His Best, Sam and Castiel Taking Care of Each Other, Sam's A+ Self Esteem, Season/Series 15, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenotaphy/pseuds/cenotaphy
Summary: Coda to 15.01, "Back and to the Future".Sam steps away to try to keep it together. Castiel finds him.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 134





	Something To Lean Against

Sam does his best, but there are only so many anxious townspeople he can soothe before his own nagging worry threatens to consume him. He keeps seeing the same flash of scarlet-limned terror that he'd glimpsed in the garage, that vision of Dean crumpling, neck snapped a hundred and twenty degrees to one side.

He finally mutters something about a breather and escapes through the school's side exit, near which the Impala is parked. The bullet wound in his shoulder throbs with a slow and vicious heat. He leans against the trunk and tries to tell himself his hands aren't really shaking.

Sam's only there for a minute or so before he hears the steady tread of Cas's steps approaching from farther up the street, in the direction of the town. Cas doesn't say anything until he's come to a stop right beside Sam, and then all he says is a graveled, uneasy, "Sam."

"Hey," says Sam. His voice comes out a little raspy—his throat is dry from repeated gas leak explanations, all equally earnest and equally bullshit. He carefully doesn't meet Cas's eyes. "What are you doing here?"

The little coil of shame in his belly from earlier is still fresh and reeking; he hadn't wanted anyone to see the bullet injury, even though he _knew_ he'd have to show it eventually, at least to Dean. Sam's no angel, but even he can sense the wrongness of the wound, the sickness of it. Fuck, he can _smell_ it on himself, a cloying rot of something gone bad. He hadn't wanted Cas to see it. Something in his chest had twisted even as he'd exposed his shoulder in the dim garage, some half-feral instinct telling him to hide, telling him that Cas would look at the blot, at the person carrying it, and see something to be killed, something to be smited out of existence.

"I wanted to try something," says Cas. His hand floats up toward Sam's shoulder, then pauses and hovers. "May I?"

Sam does look up then, darting his eyes up to scan Cas's face, but there's no reproach there, no fear or distrust. He reaches up reluctantly and unfastens the first few buttons on his shirt so that he can bare the afflicted shoulder; the fabric catches on the wound as it goes and he has to grit his teeth hard to keep from gasping out.

He makes himself watch Cas's face, bracing for disgust or horror, but again there's nothing. Cas isn't repelled by the hole in Sam's shoulder, and Sam has to clamp down on the urge to ball his fists and scream that Cas _should_ be, that Sam is just a time bomb that's going to go off sooner or later, that there's no amount of grace in the world that can rinse Sam's soul clean, scrub the vestiges of blood out of his mouth. Sam can tell himself until the sun comes up that it was the gun, that it was dark magic in the bullet, that you don't shoot God himself without side effects, but he's always known better, hasn't he? He's always known he wasn't clean.

Cas rests his fingertips lightly against the skin beyond the bullet wound and there's a sudden cool wash of grace that soothes the injury's angry heat, eases the jagged pain in the surrounding muscle. The wound is still there when Cas removes his hand, dark and festering as ever, but the pain is significantly less.

"I still can't heal it," says Cas apologetically, "but I realized I could at least try and ease the discomfort."

"Cas—I—" Sam stumbles, unseamed by the unnecessary kindness of the gesture. He shrugs the shirt back onto his shoulder and mumbles, "Thank you."

Cas gives a short, hesitant nod, as if unprepared to be thanked at all. He shifts his weight in place for a moment, then starts to turn away.

Sam catches him by the sleeve. "I didn't see you in there," he says. He means, he supposes, that he didn't see Cas with Dean.

The subtext seems to translate across, because Cas sighs and says, "Dean isn't inclined to speak much to me beyond what's necessary, right now. I thought I should give him more space."

"Right," says Sam. He hadn't noticed it in the hubbub of, well, fighting for their lives, but now that he thinks about it, he supposes Dean's been fairly brusque towards Cas. Even by Dean standards. Well, it's not like tension is an unusual thing for the two of them. If they all figure this hellmouth situation out and manage not to die doing it, there'll be plenty of time for Dean and Cas to resolve this.

"You don't have to make yourself scarce, Cas," says Sam, choosing instead to focus on what he can control, namely ensuring that Cas doesn't feel like unwanted shit just because he's getting the cold shoulder from Dean. "We're in this together. Dean cares about you. I care about you."

Cas does smile at that, although it barely reaches his tired eyes. "I also care about you both," he says softly. His gaze goes distant for a moment, then refocuses. He studies Sam's face before peering again at Sam's shoulder, as if he can still see the wound through the dark fabric. "Are you sure you're alright, Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam swallows around the lie. "I'm fine, Cas." He doesn't think Cas quite believes him, but isn't that what they're all doing right now? Telling the townspeople that it's just a gas leak, telling each other that they're alright, that everything's going to be okay? Cas _isn't_ alright, Dean _isn't_ alright, Sam's _so_ far from alright it's almost laughable, and there's a giant opening into hell a couple miles away—well. At a certain point all they can do is pretend to believe each other and hope that they really do manage to pull off some semblance of _alright_.

The Impala shifts slightly as Cas leans against it too, hands in his pockets. Sam sighs and tilts his head back, studying the darkness of the overcast sky above.


End file.
